Journal — small essays from the road

Notes written between buses and balconies: a page from a hill veranda, a ferry receipt used as a bookmark, a recipe traded for directions. None of it urgent; all of it useful.

We keep this journal as a low flame — steady and bright. Each entry favours the humane pace: benches over benches pressed into hours, neighbourhood music over decibels, and tea that tastes of place.

Original prose and field detail rather than lists.
Routes seen through light, taste, and time.
Photos kept compact (≤350px) and light to load.

Travel notebook open on a wooden desk with pencil shavings — Pages that travel before we do

Cup of chai beside handwritten notes in a quiet lane — Chai margins and lane echoes

Pen resting on a page by a train window with blurred fields — Window light for editing thoughts

Notebook Reels — light frames for long days

Two fragments from recent routes: a bazaar morning that smelled of cardamom; a window where rain rewrote the view.

Open notebook at a market stall with spice piles nearby — Morning market margin

Spice o’clock

Bought two spoons of laughter from a vendor who measured joy in cardamom. He wrapped it in old news — the headline said rain; the scent said holiday.

#spice
#morning
#lane

Notebook by a rain-marked window with blurry palms — Monsoon window

Margin weather

The page puckered with each drop; the tea turned the colour of patience. We timed departures to the quiet between drizzles.

#monsoon
#pause
#ferry

Soundscape Notes — where a place speaks first

Some cities announce themselves by rhythm: kettle hiss, tram bell, sea on steps. We list sounds the way others collect stamps.

Street musician with a sitar tuning before sunset — Alley rehearsal — sitar and dusk

Old-city rehearsal

A raga warming up in a side street; footsteps kept time until lamps took over.

Sea waves folding onto promenade steps in soft light — Promenade steps — sea metronome

Promenade metronome

The sea arrived in sentences, each wave a comma, each pause a breath.

Bazaar Letters — paper, price, and a polite laugh

Two letters we wrote to ourselves after getting lost the right way.

Brass lamps stacked in a bazaar stall — Old-city brass — soft shine

Letter from Lane 7

We bargained in compliments first. The vendor answered in polish, lifting each lamp so it caught a story from the rafters.

Paper garlands and ribbons in a narrow bazaar aisle — Paper garlands — aisle of colour

Letter from the Ribbon Shop

We bought one metre of celebration and let the shopkeeper choose the colour. He chose the one that matched our laugh.

Rooflight Sketches — windows that draw for you

Two frames where the sky finished our notes.

Courtyard roof opening with blue sky and a wire — Courtyard — page of sky

Attic rafters with a ribbon of light across dust motes — Attic — light across rafters

Breakfast Essays — first tastes set the day

Two mornings, two ways of being unhurried.

07:10

Steam rising from idli plates at a street stall — Chennai — idli steam

Soft start

Cloud-light idli and coconut that tastes like rain. The city slows down to match.

08:25

Paratha with a clay cup of lassi on a metal table — Amritsar — paratha & lassi

Hearty map

Butter draws directions; we follow them with a spoon and a grin.

Stepwell Pages — reading depth like a book

We write in levels: sun on the rim, shade halfway, cool at the water line. Two pages from a well of stories.

Page 1 · Noon rim

Geometric top view of a stepwell in bright noon light — Sun lattice on stone

Noon writes in straight lines; edges hum like strings. We take notes standing, as if the steps could turn into sentences if we sit too long.

Page 2 · Water line

Lower level of a stepwell with green water and deep shade — Shade that edits sound

Down here, echoes walk slower. A cloth floats, a story resolves; we close the page before it spills.

Ferry Receipts — proof that the day crossed water

We keep two: one for the wake, one for the quiet after docking. Ticket paper turns into memory better than maps.

PAID 09:40

Small river ferry with a few passengers and a pale sky — Wake like handwriting

Two coins, two smiles, one short song from the engine.
Left bank tasted of tamarind; right bank, of tea.

OK 17:25

Notebook resting on a wooden jetty at sunset — Dockside margin

We waited for a breeze to balance the page.
Receipt tucked under a cup; the day signed off.

Cedar Margins — writing where resin lingers

Hill notes prefer the edge of a page: resin on fingers, wind on the sound of letters.

We keep the sentences short so the trees can speak between them. Roof slates click, cups fog, the ridge delivers a punctuation mark in the shape of a flag.